


In Life and In Duty

by DeuxSabres



Series: Alpha-Jinn/Omega-wan Jinnobi [3]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alpha Qui-Gon Jinn, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Angst, Dominant Qui-Gon Jinn, Don't copy to another site, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Jedi Culture, M/M, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Omega Obi-Wan Kenobi, Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, Romance, Smut, Submissive Obi-Wan Kenobi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 09:11:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22410076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeuxSabres/pseuds/DeuxSabres
Summary: Qui-Gon Jinn finds his mate, Obi-Wan Kenobi, withdrawing from him following the Council's Judgment. Qui-Gon must reach out to his mate and force them both to face their turmoil and pain. If Obi-Wan reaches for Qui-Gon in return, both of them can adjust to their new status and the Council's Judgment. Only together can they begin to heal.Sequel to "Stalemate."(Title and summary changed 1/28/2020.)
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Series: Alpha-Jinn/Omega-wan Jinnobi [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1520654
Comments: 8
Kudos: 99





	In Life and In Duty

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously I don’t own Star Wars. No money is being made with this fic. I’m only posting this fic on AO3. If it is found anywhere else, someone is plagiarizing me and claiming it as their work. If you would like to have my fic archived, etc. by any means or in any format, please contact me first for permission at sabresunis@gmail.com. Thank you. 
> 
> Apparently, readers enjoyed the possibilities of where my last fic in this series left off, so my brain decided to come up with something to keep it going. Thank you for everyone who has read the series so far and are still interested! You keep my brain inspired to write more. I hope you enjoy where I take this story. Thank you! 
> 
> This fic is a direct sequel to my previous two fics in the Alpha-Jinn & Omega-Wan Series, which is set in an Alpha-Beta-Omega verse of the Prequel era. The first fic is called “For Now and Always,” while the second fic is “Stalemate.” We’ve now come to point where you will need to have read the other stories to truly follow what’s going on in the series. I can’t recap it every time. I’ve come to accept that the only thing I can (apparently) write for Jinnobi is Alpha/Omega. This is my life. Maybe I’ll have other ideas, but at this time, that’s not happening. I’m way deep in this universe. I have plans for future fics! I have ideas, and not to mention sometimes readers give me extra ideas in your comments. <3 
> 
> I apologize for changing the title and summary. I wasn't thrilled with either of them, but was so excited to post the story that I went ahead with a title and summary I didn't truly like. I think these are better. Sorry for any confusion. 
> 
> *Constructive* criticism welcome; as always, I hope no one thinks this is terrible.

**In Life and In Duty**  
  


He’d always enjoyed this particular spot in this particular garden. Here he could isolate himself from sight. Even concealed so, he still heard the sounds of others walking along the paths to seek their own serenity, the running water in the carefully designed streams and gentle waterfalls which soothed the troubled mind into a quieter state. He could still hear the soft rustle of the tree leaves in the artificial breeze. But in his chosen refuge, he could tuck himself into the shade of branches and foliage while still enfolded by the warmth of the sunlight.

He inhaled deeply through his nose, struggling to find the serenity he so desperately needed in the face of his uncertain standing among the Jedi Order. Not that Qui-Gon Jinn concerned himself with how others regarded him and his tendencies to listen to the Will of the Force over the Will of the Council. He’d long been regarded as a maverick. His current circumstances were not normal and his need for inner peace grew more urgent by the day. No, his problems did not stem from his obstinacy in the face of the Council’s opinion of him. His problems were much closer to home. Specifically, his problem lay with his relationship with his Padawan.

His Omega mate.

Qui-Gon let the breeze take up his long hair as he regulated his breathing to the steady rhythm of the air circulation units in the gardens and focused his thoughts on his Padawan. Since their mating, he and Obi-Wan enjoyed physical closeness but Qui-Gon noticed as the weeks and months went by that Obi-Wan seemed to be withdrawing mentally, emotionally from him. He slipped into a light meditation on the morning’s events that drove him to seek peace in this favorite of meditation alcoves.

_Obi-Wan slept nestled in his arms, his back pressed against the warmth of Qui-Gon’s chest and his legs entangled with the longer ones of his Master. Qui-Gon held him close, but his arms were loose around Obi-Wan. He woke before Obi-Wan and took the opportunity to look upon the beautiful younger man, whose face typically stayed tight with worry when awake but now lay smooth and free of concerns on the pillow. Obi-Wan drew Qui-Gon to him like a beacon. Qui-Gon gathered Obi-Wan closer still and pressed his lips against the smooth skin of Obi-Wan’s throat and made his way higher until he rained kisses into the soft but spiky hair. He nuzzled into that softness with a pleased sound of contentment. _

_With a soft moan, Obi-Wan stirred. “Mas’er?”_

_Qui-Gon smiled into Obi-Wan’s hair. He found his mate’s half-conscious attempts at speech endearing. “Good morning.”_

_Obi-Wan sighed but didn’t otherwise move. Not when Qui-Gon resumed kissing him. Not when he slid his hands down to lightly grip his hips. Not when he gently nipped Obi-Wan’s earlobe, a move that would normally have Obi-Wan shivering in his arms. Qui-Gon finally got a reaction from him when he slid his hand to grip Obi-Wan’s half-awakened length, but it wasn’t the reaction he’d hoped for. Obi-Wan grabbed Qui-Gon’s wrist tightly and firmly said one word. “Don’t.”_

_Other than to remove his hand, Qui-Gon froze. “What’s wrong?” Obi-Wan shook his head and shifted in Qui-Gon’s arms. “Obi-Wan, if there’s something—”_

_“Leave it, please,” Obi-Wan sighed, the words weighed with exhaustion. “Please.”_

_Qui-Gon sought Obi-Wan’s hand with his own, but when he intertwined their fingers he sensed that Obi-Wan endured his touch without necessarily welcoming it. “If something is troubling you, it troubles me. Obi-Wan, please, tell—”_

_Before he could say anything else, Obi-Wan pulled away from Qui-Gon’s embrace and slid to the edge of the bed. Qui-Gon watched his mate’s spine curve as he folded the emotions Obi-Wan refused to discuss into himself. Just as he reached for Obi-Wan, the younger man stood and hurriedly gathered his clothes. “I have to attend class,” Obi-Wan mumbled before he escaped into the fresher. Qui-Gon stared after him in stunned helplessness wondering what he had done for his mate to behave so unlike himself. _

_By the time he’d roused himself to begin his day and prepare breakfast, Qui-Gon still had no answer. Obi-Wan emerged from the fresher, looking the very image of a proper Jedi Padawan, but without any of the spirit to back it up. The stress he carried in his shoulders and the dark smudges beneath his exhausted eyes announced that something deeply troubled him. Obi-Wan ignored the tea Qui-Gon poured for him and strode to the door of their quarters, mumbling a farewell as he passed Qui-Gon, who stood from his chair. “Obi-Wan, stop.”_

_Obi-Wan obeyed but did not turn to face him. Qui-Gon circled him and stood in front of him. Obi-Wan refused to meet his eyes. “Never, since you became my apprentice, have you not properly said goodbye before you went to your classes.” Obi-Wan swallowed. “It is clear that you do not wish my help with whatever disturbs you, but I will not stand to be ignored, not by my Padawan, and not by my mate.”_

_Obi-Wan dragged his eyes up to Qui-Gon’s and swallowed again. Qui-Gon disliked what he saw in Obi-Wan’s eyes. He hoped the fear there was not for him. “I will return for evening meal, Master.” _

_He went to step around Qui-Gon, but a gentle tug on his arm halted him. Before he could question it, Qui-Gon’s lips found his and his Master’s free hand curled around the back of his neck to keep him within reach. Qui-Gon withdrew enough to say, “I love you,” then kissed him once more. _

_Obi-Wan said nothing. Qui-Gon stood in their quarters long after Obi-Wan left trying to understand what had happened, when it happened, and how he could help repair the strain between them._

He’d soon after gone to the gardens. Qui-Gon had been in meditation since and was no closer to answering any of these problems. Before he’d mated with Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon would not have hesitated to seek out the advice of fellow Masters or friends on the Council. But after they’d cast their harsh disapproval upon him and his mate, Qui-Gon felt at a loss and more alone than he often felt within the ranks of the Jedi Order. Whatever problems existed between Obi-Wan and himself, they were difficulties they would have to solve together and without outside help or opinion. He had no one to turn to anymore.

The awareness of another’s presence settling to the ground beside him disrupted what remained of his tenuous focus. He opened his eyes and failed to conceal his surprise. “Master Koon, how can I help you?”

Despite his breathing mask and eyewear covering any emotion that would have otherwise been easy to discern, Plo Koon’s calm and indulgent aura was easy to recognize. He meant Qui-Gon no harm or negative judgment in coming to rest beside him. “I sense you are troubled.”

Qui-Gon tensed. “You’ll forgive me if I say that my concerns are not those I wish to discuss with a member of the Council.”

Plo Koon hummed in thought. “This implies it has something to do with young Kenobi.” Qui-Gon turned his attention to the grass and refused to answer in any way. Plo settled into a meditative posture and rested his hands on his folded knees. “That is fortunate. It is about Padawan Kenobi that I wish to speak, Master Jinn. I am concerned for your apprentice.”

His choice of words did not go unnoticed by Qui-Gon. Plo Koon didn’t seek him out to discuss his mate. He came to discuss his Padawan. This he _could_ discuss. “He is not himself.”

“Do you know why?”

Qui-Gon delivered his response with the quick and sharp defensive instinct of a cornered animal. “Perhaps it has to do with the Council’s decision to forever take away his future and knighthood, a goal he’s worked towards his entire life.” Qui-Gon hung his head. Perhaps he couldn’t discuss his apprentice after all.

Plo raised his hand. “Peace, Qui-Gon. I was not among those who supported the Council’s ultimate judgment. I petitioned on both of your behalf.” Qui-Gon turned to him, eyes widened with surprise and regret. “You should turn your anger to those who issued the punishment.”

A bitter laugh escaped. “So it is a punishment.”

“In regards to this decree occurring in the face of mutual affection between two Jedi, I believe the decision unjust and unreasonable. I understand your motivations for your actions.” Plo spoke quickly before Qui-Gon could thank him. “On principle, I do not agree with an alpha Master entering into a permanent mating with their omega Padawan. But I agree that an Omega’s heat, especially their first, should be shared with one whom the Omega trusts and is comfortable sharing their body.”

He nodded to Qui-Gon. “What my fellow Council Members failed to consider is the numerous years in which affection and protective urges developed between you and your Padawan. Your connection has often been regarded as strong for two Jedi not bonded or paired together. I see no purely physical lust between you, but a connection rooted in a deeper basis. Had Obi-Wan presented as a beta, these consequences you face now would not exist, and with your already deep connection to each other in the Force, an eventual union between you would be expected. It was on this basis that I argued in your favor.”

With each word, Qui-Gon grew more and more disturbed by the Council and their judgment. He nearly asked Plo Koon to stop speaking but the Kel Dor continued. “However, what the other Council members could not see past was Obi-Wan’s presentation as an Omega, and that as such, no one could ever prove that you had not coerced him into sexual relations as an Alpha. They would hear and accept no argument that went against this point of view.”

Grief and reluctant acceptance of his reality filled Qui-Gon’s heart. “Then we were damned before we were questioned, even before we were summoned.”

“I am truly sorry, my friend.”

Qui-Gon acknowledged the sympathy with a nod. How could he tell Obi-Wan? Obi-Wan! That was what brought Plo Koon to his side to begin with, not the Council’s judgment. Qui-Gon chose to focus on that instead. “You mentioned your concern for Obi-Wan?” he prompted.

Plo nodded. “And as you mentioned, he is not himself.” He stood. “Walk with me, Master Jinn. Perhaps it is better seen than discussed.”

Qui-Gon got to his feet and accompanied Plo through the Temple until they reached the training dojos. Qui-Gon expected Plo to lead him through the doors of the main level where practitioners worked, but instead they went up to the observation level where they could look down from an aerial perspective upon students, knights, or masters alike. This was often the view chosen by those seeking prospective apprentices and wanting to observe them a little more inconspicuously.

Plo Koon nodded towards the group of mid-level Padawans in one half of the dojo where the young Jedi worked under the guidance of Saber Master Cin Drallig. “They are working on the finer points of Makashi this quarter. I am aware this is not your Padawan’s usual form.”

Qui-Gon drew his attention to the group of apprentice’s as they ran through the drills against the remote droid opponents, the tiny robots darting through the air and sending bursts of lasers for the students to combat with the Makashi parries. He waited for Plo to continue, knowing he had more so say. “What strikes me as unusual,” Plo said while continuing to observe the Padawans, “is the level of discipline and skill Obi-Wan has displayed recently.”

Below, Obi-Wan missed a parry and the laser bolt hit him in the leg. Instead of shrugging it off and continuing as he usually did in training exercises, Obi-Wan reacted violently. He wordlessly cried out and slashed his lightsaber through the air in a vicious and rage-filled attack against an invisible enemy before winding it back to the ready position. Qui-Gon saw what Plo Koon meant. Obi-Wan had always found lightsaber training enjoyable, sometimes calming, a way to work off excess energy. But what Qui-Gon saw in the dojo was not any of those things. Reluctantly, he found himself agreeing with Plo Koon’s observations. “I think you mean his lack of discipline and skill.”

Plo hummed in agreement. They observed in silence until he asked, “What is Obi-Wan’s form?”

“The same as mine, Ataru.”

“An aggressive and physically powerful form. Not a common choice for one of his stature.”

Qui-Gon heard the rebuke of his teaching methods. “He excels in the aerials in Ataru. He is very acrobatic.”

“But he does not have the physical power to wear an opponent down like his Master,” Plo argued. “You have that physicality without question, and Ataru fits you well. However, I have seen you in the annual competitions and demonstrations and it is rare for you to utilize the aerials.”

Qui-Gon bit back his reply. _I encourage Obi-Wan to fly for both of us. _Instead he spoke in another direction. “I don’t hear you criticizing Master Yoda for his use of Ataru combined with his small stature.”

Plo laughed, the sound muffled by his breathing mask. “I wouldn’t dare. What I mean in regards to your Padawan is that perhaps it would be wise to explore the other forms with him and let him choose his own path. Considering how much in his life has not been by his own choice recently, perhaps allowing him that freedom to choose even his preferred form would benefit him and help him find balance once more.”

They both turned to training below when another frustrated shout broke the constant humming of lightsabers. Obi-Wan swept his blade clear through the training droid and it fell to the mats in two pieces. With a disgusted grimace, Obi-Wan threw his hand forward and sent the remains of the droid hard against the wall. Master Drallig called a halt for all other students and approached Obi-Wan with a demand to extinguish his lightsaber. From their vantage point, Plo and Qui-Gon couldn’t hear what was said between them, but their body language was all too clear. Drallig’s disapproval clashed against Obi-Wan’s raging irritation.

Plo turned to speak with Qui-Gon, but found that the other Master had left the observation level. It became all too obvious where he’d gone when the doors to the dojo slid open. Plo drew a deep breath and decided he would remain to observe how Qui-Gon handled this volatile situation with his apprentice and new mate.

Qui-Gon stalked into the dojo, his long strides carrying him to the center of the room in seconds. He took his saber from his belt and held it, unlit but ready, at his side. His hard gaze bore into his Padawan’s surprised eyes. “Master Drallig, dismiss the other Padawans. I must correct a deficiency in mine.”

Obi-Wan flinched as if Qui-Gon’s words physically struck him. Cin Drallig immediately deactivated the remote droids with a wave of the Force and sent them to their storage rack as he called for the remaining Padawans to depart the dojo and reminded them of their next session. The other students cleared the room and gave Qui-Gon a wide berth on their way out. Drallig lingered at the door and opened his mouth to speak but Qui-Gon turned to him and spoke first. “Thank you, Cin. Leave us, please.” With a last concerned glance at Obi-Wan, Drallig left the dojo.

Qui-Gon turned to Obi-Wan, who refused to flinch or retreat further from his Master. “Is it a fight you seek, Padawan?” Obi-Wan blinked and his face showed a hint of regret for the actions he now realized his Master had witnessed from the training exercises. “I asked you a question, Padawan. I expect an answer.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “I apologize for my behavior, Master, I—”

The _snap-hiss_ of a lightsaber igniting cut his words short. Qui-Gon charged with a shout. “Defend!” Obi-Wan just managed to bring his lightsaber up to block. His Master’s green blade hammered against his blue saber, and he drove Obi-Wan back. Obi-Wan’s shock at his Master’s sudden attack compromised his focus and made it difficult for him to gain any advantage in the spar.

“Your control is slipping,” Qui-Gon said, as he aimed low at Obi-Wan’s feet. Obi-Wan sprang high into the air and flipped over Qui-Gon’s head, slashing downward as he passed. Qui-Gon easily deflected the blow. Obi-Wan landed on his feet and their blades clashed anew. “You lack the discipline you’ve worked years to achieve.” Qui-Gon drove Obi-Wan across the length of the dojo with efficient, precise strikes. He attacked with his blade just as he slashed at him with words. “Do not think I haven’t also noticed your skills declining, your efforts on coursework falling.” They locked blades, the beams hissing as they stayed in contact. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan glared at one another between their crossed sabers. “But your shielding is as solid as durasteel. What is it you feel you must hide from me, I wonder?”

Obi-Wan seethed and flung their blades to the side, breaking the connection before charging with a strike of his own. A strike which Qui-Gon lazily deflected. It only incensed Obi-Wan more. “I thought you’d be impressed with that at—”

Qui-Gon refused to acknowledge Obi-Wan’s attempted deflection. “That you’ve fallen from a Padawan admired and praised for his skill and discipline to an apprentice who seems to no longer care for his training? Who lashes out at any and everything?” Qui-Gon shook his head, his long hair streaming between the motion and the intensity of their combat. “No. I could never be proud of that. And neither should you.”

Qui-Gon landed a blow on Obi-Wan’s arm. Before his eyes, Obi-Wan became something akin to a wild, wounded animal. Obi-Wan let out a harsh cry, gripped his saber harder and attacked his Master, his voice rising until he screamed. “What does it matter anymore? Everything I’ve worked for—my Knighthood—it’s gone!”

Qui-Gon allowed Obi-Wan to push him back across the dojo, watching his usually composed Padawan charge at him with wild fury. He deflected Obi-Wan’s sloppy, emotional strikes with ease, but worry and concern chilled him. For a horrifying moment, he wondered if he’d poisoned another apprentice. He buried the thought almost as quickly as it came and focused on the moment at hand. He could not, would not, allow Obi-Wan to land a blow to him. He had a lesson to teach here and it did not involve Obi-Wan defeating his Master in this spar. “Control your emotions, Padawan. You are better than this. Remember what all you’ve learned.”

Obi-Wan tried to trip Qui-Gon but the larger man anticipated the move and jumped to avoid it. As he went to land another blow past Obi-Wan’s defenses, his Padawan blocked his blade and pushed against Qui-Gon hard. “What does it matter anymore when nothing will come of it?” he shouted at his Master.

Qui-Gon’s mouth fell open, stunned by the bitter, despaired question. “Nothing will come of it?” He pushed Obi-Wan back with an added burst of the Force to send his apprentice stumbling backward several steps. “What does it matter?” Qui-Gon roared as he charged, his blade raised in a high guard position either to strike or defend with minimal effort. He hammered Obi-Wan with blows, his apprentice struggling to defend himself against the sheer physical strength. “If we weren’t sparring, and this was a real confrontation, how do you think it would end for you?”

Qui-Gon landed another strike on Obi-Wan’s shoulder as his blade slid down along the blue beam and straight into the beige tunics, singeing the fabric but leaving the arm beneath uninjured. Obi-Wan cried out with surprise, flung his saber high to send Qui-Gon’s upward to give him the space he needed to flee, to give him precious seconds to regroup and muster himself against the superior skill of his Master. But Qui-Gon didn’t give him time as he normally would in training. He’d asked Obi-Wan how it would go if this duel were real. He intended to make it as real as possible without causing true injury to his Padawan.

But as Qui-Gon’s green saber clashed into his own, Obi-Wan wondered if it truly was real, if Qui-Gon wasn’t pretending. His strikes certainly weren’t pulled, they slammed into him with Qui-Gon’s full strength and reach, and Obi-Wan’s muscles tired and his exhaustion threatened to overcome him.

“We chose to be tied together!” Qui-Gon shouted. “From this day forth I will be at your side and you at mine!” Obi-Wan swung his saber, intending to slip the blade between Qui-Gon’s overreaching saber arm and his side. Qui-Gon grabbed Obi-Wan’s striking wrist with his free hand and yanked him forward, carrying not only Obi-Wan’s saber but his entire body through the full motion of his Padawan’s intended hit under Qui-Gon’s raised saber arm. Obi-Wan stumbled but whirled to face Qui-Gon. He barely managed to block Qui-Gon’s low attack to his legs as he turned, but he used a two-handed grip to throw Qui-Gon’s blade away from him. “We are each other’s defense, protection.”

Qui-Gon’s boot slammed into Obi-Wan’s chest and sent him back, the breath knocked from his lungs. Terror filled him as Qui-Gon came at him. He parried unsteadily, his hands shaking. “You can barely defend yourself. How can I trust you to defend my back when you cannot defend your front?” Qui-Gon twisted his blade expertly and pain exploded at Obi-Wan’s hip. He stumbled with a cry, shocked but not truly wounded. Before he could recover, Qui-Gon hit Obi-Wan’s lightsaber out of his weakened grip and swept his legs from beneath him. Obi-Wan landed hard on his back. Qui-Gon stood over him, his lowered saber humming at his side. “I never, not once since I first took you as my Padawan, feared to take you on a mission at my side. But I do now.”

Something broke in Obi-Wan, old insecurities rising to the surface before he could squash them to silence. He couldn’t control his breathing and he couldn’t stop his eyes from filling with tears. Qui-Gon’s image blurred in front of him, and he blinked the tears from his eyes. When he opened them fully, Qui-Gon had lowered himself to one knee, his lightsaber back on his belt. His calloused fingers swept the tears from Obi-Wan’s face, and it was then that Obi-Wan noticed the moisture lingering in the saddened eyes of his Master.

“With our mating, you became more than just my Padawan, Obi-Wan. You became my partner in life and in duty. If you forsake your training, if you neglect it, you dishonor yourself more than anyone can ever smear your reputation, and you hurt us both. The choice to rise or fall is yours alone. I’m not asking you to choose me or yourself. I’m not asking you to choose the Order or me. I’m asking you, as your mate, not to give up on yourself. I can’t make that choice for you, dear one.” Qui-Gon mustered a half-smile as he brushed Obi-Wan’s sweat-soaked hair back from his face. “The Obi-Wan I knew when he was twelve years old never once gave up. In fact, he stubbornly refused to give up. Why have you?”

Obi-Wan said nothing, couldn’t say anything, for the gentle kindness in his Master’s voice undid him. He chose to let his body speak instead. He reached for Qui-Gon, who opened his arms and welcomed him into his embrace. Obi-Wan clutched his back and buried his face into the sweat-dampened tunics of Qui-Gon’s chest. Qui-Gon leaned back and brought them both upright and held him while he nestled Obi-Wan’s hair, inhaling his scent and pressing tender kisses into the soft locks. There they remained, holding onto each other in the silence and emptiness of the dojo, their breathing the only audible sounds. Once his emotions calmed, Obi-Wan looked up into Qui-Gon’s eyes. “I don’t want to give up.”

Qui-Gon heard the words as both reassurance and a plea for help. And so he answered to return that reassurance and to promise his support. “I know.” Obi-Wan’s understanding smile didn’t reach his eyes, but Qui-Gon accepted it. “Come,” he said, shifting to prepare to stand. “I think you’ve had enough training today.”

“But it’s only midday,” Obi-Wan protested as Qui-Gon hauled them both to their feet.

“I think we both need some rest and time away from others.” He shrugged. “We can’t leave the planet, but I think retreating to the privacy of our quarters will benefit everyone.” He turned to head towards the showers. His tunics were damp and his body overheated and uncomfortable.

“Master,” Obi-Wan called. Qui-Gon turned back. “May I be excused briefly?”

“What for?”

Obi-Wan shifted his weight sheepishly. “I would like to find Master Drallig and apologize for my behavior and loss of control in his class today.”

Pride warmed Qui-Gon’s chest. “Of course.”

Obi-Wan bowed to him. Qui-Gon expected him to depart, but when Obi-Wan stayed put, Qui-Gon studied him closer. “Is there something else, Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan lowered his gaze, almost shyly and licked his lips. “I must also apologize to you. I haven’t been fair to you recently. You’ve been nothing but supportive and loving and I’ve treated you poorly.” Qui-Gon stepped towards him and started to say the apology was unnecessary, but he found himself stopped by Obi-Wan’s heated gaze when he raised his eyes to him again. The blue-green eyes were afire with promise. “But when I return home after I speak with Master Drallig, I would like to—” His face blossomed pink. “—continue our spar.”

Qui-Gon tried to remain stoic, as a proper Jedi Master should, but his delighted arousal at the clear offer in his mate’s words defeated him. A predatory smile spread his lips and lit up his eyes. “If you feel you need the additional exercise, then it is my duty to see you receive it.”

Obi-Wan swallowed. “As you command and desire, my Master.”

“I do.”

Obi-Wan broke eye contact with a shaky exhale and less graceful bow than his previous. He didn’t dare look at Qui-Gon again but hurried from the dojo. He suspected that if he did, he would have ended up stripped, spread, and claimed on the mats under his feet. In his haste to depart, he didn’t notice Qui-Gon’s hasty retreat to the showers.

As the cool water ran down his skin and through his long hair, Qui-Gon thought of their confrontation, all of it, move for move and word for word. While Obi-Wan’s acknowledgement of his less than balanced mental state and claim that he didn’t wish to give up filled Qui-Gon with relief, his Padawan’s attitude and tension concerned him. What was it about their circumstances that troubled Obi-Wan to the very center of his being? He leaned his head into the spray of the water as answers and conclusions slowly formed in his mind. By the time he finished his shower, Qui-Gon knew that the discussion in the dojo wasn’t over and that it would need to continue before they could move forward in their relationship together. With this in mind, he made his way back to their quarters.

Obi-Wan had not yet returned. Qui-Gon made himself a cup of tea and sipped it while he stood before the large window in their quarters that overlooked the greenery of one of the many Temple gardens. His thoughts were so preoccupied with how to open the discussion with Obi-Wan that he didn’t hear the door open or footsteps approach.

But he felt the arms slide around his waist from behind.

“Master Drallig accepted my apology,” Obi-Wan informed him, his voice muffled by Qui-Gon’s tunic where he’d snuggled his face into his back.

Qui-Gon hummed his approval. Obi-Wan’s wandering fingers teased him at his belt clasps. Qui-Gon trapped those fingers with his own hand. He didn’t object to what Obi-Wan was doing, but his sudden playfulness confused him considering Obi-Wan’s repeated rejections of Qui-Gon’s physical attention. “We should talk, Obi-Wan.” Obi-Wan stilled at the words. Qui-Gon guided him by his captured hand until they stood face to face. Obi-Wan looked up at him in dread. “Our conversation earlier was left unfinished.”

Obi-Wan instantly went back through the discussion until he came to the point he believed Qui-Gon wanted to revisit. “You asked me why I gave up, and I told you that I don’t want to. I didn’t just mean my training. I don’t think you did either.” He turned his hand in Qui-Gon’s loosened grasp until their palms met. “I realized on my way back from speaking with Master Drallig that I also didn’t want to give up on this.” Obi-Wan smiled, thought better of it, and sobered with regret. “I’m sorry that I hurt you.”

Qui-Gon shook his head with a deep sigh. “You didn’t hurt me.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

Qui-Gon fixed him with a challenging glare. “That you wanted me so fully one minute and so thoroughly rejected me in another left me uncertain and hesitant to overstep a boundary you’d drawn that I could not see.” He traced Obi-Wan’s features with his eyes. “I never want to hurt you again, Obi-Wan. I’ve done enough of that since taking you as my Padawan. I have no wish, especially, to hurt my mate.”

Obi-Wan stepped closer and deftly plucked the empty cup from Qui-Gon’s hand. He used the Force to set it on the small end table by Qui-Gon’s reading chair. He smiled up at Qui-Gon, his Master and his Mate, and cupped his strong jaw. “I know that, Qui-Gon. It’s why I chose you.” He tugged and Qui-Gon obeyed, lowering his head enough so that their lips met. “It’s why I asked you to make me yours.”

Qui-Gon slid his hands around Obi-Wan to pull him flush against his larger body and kissed him again, harder. Obi-Wan slipped his hands down until he reached his earlier goal, this time succeeding in undoing the clasp and flinging the restraining belt and sash away in the limited space between them. Obi-Wan parted his tunics and touched Qui-Gon’s bared skin, and welcomed Qui-Gon’s groan into their next kiss. Obi-Wan pulled away from his lips then darted forward to lick at the hollow of Qui-Gon’s collarbone, kissing his way down the center of his chest, his hands teasing his mate’s nipples as he went. Qui-Gon groaned above him. Obi-Wan smiled against his skin. Qui-Gon rested his hands loosely on Obi-Wan’s shoulders, unable to decide between his desire for Obi-Wan to lavish attention where he’d paused or to move lower, lower.

Obi-Wan took the decision from him and slowly sank to his knees until he worked to undo the fastenings of Qui-Gon’s leggings where his interest in Obi-Wan’s intentions became more than obvious. Qui-Gon steadied his balance with his hands on Obi-Wan’s shoulders. Obi-Wan paused in removing the leggings and glanced up at Qui-Gon with a wicked glint in his eyes. He maintained eye contact as he pulled Qui-Gon’s hips closer by the waist of his half-undone leggings and didn’t look away even as he pressed his lips to the column of cloth-concealed flesh. Qui-Gon gasped and gripped Obi-Wan’s shoulders hard. Obi-Wan laughed. “Gently, Master,” he said then turned all of his attention back to the task before him and proceeded to leave a trail of light kisses along Qui-Gon’s straining cock through his Master’s leggings.

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said low in his throat.

“Hmm?”

Despite the erotic beauty of his Padawan and mate willingly on his knees before him, the last thing Qui-Gon wanted was to make Obi-Wan feel pressured to pleasure him in any way or for any reason. He gently pushed on Obi-Wan’s shoulders. “You don’t have to—”

Obi-Wan lifted his blue-green eyes to his as he resumed the task of freeing Qui-Gon’s flesh from his clothing. “But I want to.”

Qui-Gon saw the request in Obi-Wan’s eyes and he granted it with a nod and by running his fingers through the short soft strands of Obi-Wan’s copper hair, something he learned he loved to do since their mating. Obi-Wan smiled, understanding what Qui-Gon did not say aloud. He licked his lips as he pushed the leggings down and bared the hard flesh. He took a deep breath and leaned forward, licking and kissing his mate’s cock, leaving none of the length untouched by his tongue or lips. Qui-Gon moaned as he alternately guided and held onto him, his hands buried in Obi-Wan’s hair. A groan worked its way up from deep in his chest as Obi-Wan swallowed as much of his length as he could before his throat protested and he tried not to choke. Qui-Gon was not a small man, his cock included. Qui-Gon pulled him back each time Obi-Wan began to struggle, but each time Obi-Wan went back to taste more and more of him.

The sweet pleasure Obi-Wan gave him built and built until Qui-Gon tried to warn him, “Obi-Wan, going to—”

Obi-Wan pulled away enough to flash a cheeky grin at him while he wrapped his hand around Qui-Gon’s length and stroked. “Can’t have you make a mess on my tunics, Master.” Qui-Gon groaned and tightened his grip in Obi-Wan’s hair. Obi-Wan barely noticed it. He licked his lips and kissed the tip of the leaking cock in his hand. “Come, Qui-Gon. I can tell you’re close.” Obi-Wan took him into his mouth.

Qui-Gon pulled him further onto his flesh, thrusting gently but insistently. “So close.” He watched Obi-Wan take him further and further into his mouth and his excitement climbed, his muscles tense in anticipation of reaching that peak. Obi-Wan moaned around Qui-Gon’s cock, meeting the thrusts with eager bobs of his head, both of them with one goal in mind. Qui-Gon’s release and pleasure. Qui-Gon watched him, gasping at the sight of Obi-Wan’s lips stretched around him and the light, steadying grip Obi-Wan had on his hips. “My beautiful Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon groaned. Obi-Wan’s soft moan caressed him in answer, and Qui-Gon shook, his pleasure cresting. Then without ever losing their rhythm as he sucked on his cock, Obi-Wan looked up at him, his eyes wild as an ocean storm.

For Qui-Gon, that was all it took. 

Obi-Wan’s moan echoed his shout of completion. His mate drank of him as much as he could before he withdrew breathless from his efforts, the last of Qui-Gon’s come trailing from his parted lips as he pulled away. Qui-Gon sank to his knees and cradled Obi-Wan’s face with trembling hands, wiping away his come before it dripped to Obi-Wan’s tunic. “No mess,” Qui-Gon agreed to Obi-Wan’s earlier requirement with a lopsided smirk. That smirk vanished in the face of arousal as Obi-Wan swept his tongue around his come-covered thumb to claim his reward for his work. Qui-Gon pulled Obi-Wan to him and brought their lips together, tasting both his mate and his own seed. He groaned into the kiss. Obi-Wan moaned and slipped his tongue to deeper taste his mate.

Qui-Gon wrapped him in his arms and deepened their kiss even further, but all too soon for Obi-Wan, he started to pull away. He reached for Qui-Gon, seeking to hold him close and prolong the kiss, their blissful contentment, and the moment, but Qui-Gon leaned back, his expression a combination of amusement, adoration, and admonishment. “As much as I enjoyed that, we still need to talk.” Obi-Wan stared at him speechless and affronted. Qui-Gon laughed and kissed him again. “I’m not letting you avoid it with distraction, no matter how pleasant a distraction it is, dear one.”

It took a great deal of time, kisses, and caresses to persuade Obi-Wan to accompany him into Qui-Gon’s larger sleep chamber, strip for bed, and lay with him beneath the covers. They shifted and repositioned themselves until they were comfortably situated. Qui-Gon lay on his back. Obi-Wan nestled into his side, one leg thrown over Qui-Gon, and his fingers idly tracing lazy patterns on Qui-Gon’s chest. Qui-Gon held him close, stroking the soft, smooth skin of his young mate’s side with his callused thumb. They allowed the peace of the moment to cover and warm them with as much comfort as a worn and well-loved blanket. Their breathing synced and their bodies swelled and sank like the tides on a shore. Qui-Gon almost regretted reminding Obi-Wan that he wished to continue their discussion. He didn’t want to ruin this. He didn’t want to cause stress to Obi-Wan when he finally seemed to have achieved a measure of peace for the first time since the Council’s Judgment. But Qui-Gon knew that they had to face the source of their pain before they could heal from it.

Qui-Gon learned that difficult lesson from the man lying beside him.

He drew a deep breath and spoke before he convinced himself to stay silent. “Obi-Wan,” he whispered into the stillness of the sleep chamber. “Is rank truly that important to you?”

Obi-Wan craned his neck to look at him. “What?”

Qui-Gon breathed. “No matter the Council’s Judgment of you, you are still a Jedi.” He brushed Obi-Wan’s skin in what he hoped was reassurance, signaling that he didn’t intend to rile Obi-Wan up or offend him with this line of discussion. “Is rank that important to you?”

Obi-Wan went still against his side, but he frowned in concentrated thought. After a brief silence, he resumed tracing invisible patterns on Qui-Gon’s skin and spoke. “All my life, I dreamed of becoming a Knight,” he said, in a hushed, mournful tone of shattered hopes. “Now I never can be.” His breath hitched. “I had the thought of us just…leaving, just walking away—”

“You don’t mean that.”

“—just making a life for ourselves.” Qui-Gon held him closer. Obi-Wan trembled, but in the low light Qui-Gon couldn’t tell if it was from grief or anger. “Do you realize there’s less shame in just leaving the Order like any of the Lost Nineteen than what the Council has imposed on us? What did we do that was so wrong?”

Qui-Gon knew the answer as well as Obi-Wan. “We decided to stop denying our love for each other.”

Tears slid from Obi-Wan’s eyes to dampen Qui-Gon’s skin. “How can loving someone be wrong?”

“It’s not.”

Obi-Wan breathed deeply and calmed with each exhale. “What would you say if I asked you if we should leave the Order?”

Just as Obi-Wan gave his question serious thought, Qui-Gon allowed the silence to grow as he contemplated the question. Qui-Gon caught Obi-Wan’s wandering hand in his and held it over his heart. Finally he gathered his thoughts enough to answer. “While our lives as Jedi are always challenging, if we were to leave, we would face obstacles and difficulties we may not even imagine or foresee.” Qui-Gon found it encouraging that Obi-Wan didn’t argue. “Despite the opinion of the majority of the Council, we both have friends here, those who support us. We are provided for and cared for, both of which would disappear immediately should we leave. This is our home.” When Obi-Wan said nothing, Qui-Gon tilted his head to look at him. “Is it not?”

Obi-Wan nodded. “It just doesn’t feel like a very welcoming one right now.”

“I know.” They lay together in silence for a few minutes, the constant hum of Coruscant’s traffic ensuring there never could be complete silence on the city planet. A thought struck Qui-Gon. “Do you wish to leave the Order, Obi-Wan?”

“I fought so hard to avoid the Agri-Corps when I was twelve. I would hate for it all to be for nothing,” he quipped, failing to mask his sadness with that hint of cheek. He sobered when it failed to make Qui-Gon laugh. “I couldn’t imagine myself as a farmer then. I still can’t. Being a Jedi is all I’ve known.” He nuzzled his face against Qui-Gon’s chest, hiding his smile visibly but Qui-Gon felt it on his bare skin. “It’s probably worse for you. You’ve been a Jedi much longer. It would be horrible for you to adjust to farming.”

Qui-Gon couldn’t help but smile. “None of that, Imp.” He chuckled to himself imagining them in an alternate life. “Who said we would be farmers? Perhaps we would end up in the Senate with our diplomatic background.”

Obi-Wan ran his fingers down Qui-Gon’s chest. “You in layers of stuffy finery? I don’t think so.”

Qui-Gon hummed. “A simple life, then. Well, that means we’re back to farming—”

“Or nerf-herding.”

“You’re too finicky for that. You wouldn’t last with the smell of nerfs around you all day and night.”

“Never mind on you.”

Qui-Gon huffed. “You’d never let us have sex again.”

Obi-Wan gasped, dramatically. “Not true, Master. As long as you bathed, you could have me as much as you like.”

Qui-Gon chuckled and lifted their hands to press a kiss to Obi-Wan’s fingers. “Deal.”

The jovial air shifted as they resettled, weighted by the thought of such a future. Obi-Wan shook his head. “You could never be a nerf-herder. You wouldn’t be able to slaughter any of them even to eat or make a living.”

Qui-Gon sighed, tightening his hand around his mate’s. “And I wouldn’t put you through that. Living in the wild.”

“I’d live in the middle of nowhere, away from everyone, just the two of us in a little hut with only what we needed to survive if it made you happy—”

Qui-Gon blinked away his tears, moved by his mate’s wholehearted devotion. He stroked his fingers over Obi-Wan’s cheek tenderly. “You’ve sacrificed enough of your happiness for me already. I should have cared for you better from the first.”

Obi-Wan tried to smile. “You did your best and gave what you could.”

“I don’t deserve such forgiveness.”

“I think that’s up to me to decide.”

Qui-Gon nodded, defeated. “As it is.” He smiled and cupped his mate’s jaw. “I think we are both destined to remain in the Order. Not because we owe anyone anything, but because you and I are both Jedi to the very core of our beings.” He ran his thumb across Obi-Wan’s cheek. “Would you be terribly upset if I wished to stay?”

“No.”

“Then stay as Jedi we will.” They sealed their decision with a gentle meeting of their lips. As they parted, Qui-Gon’s fingers caught Obi-Wan’s Padawan braid. He smiled as he stroked the plaited length. “When you were on probation, do you recall what I said to you regarding your status?”

“Yes.”

Qui-Gon waited for Obi-Wan to elaborate, but when he remained silent, Qui-Gon understood that Obi-Wan wanted to hear it from his Master’s perspective. He took up the root of the braid again and slowly stroked it. “I told you that you are my Padawan and I did not need the Council to tell me so.”

“I remember.”

Qui-Gon looked into Obi-Wan’s eyes and sought to ease the grief he found there. “Your situation is not so very different now.” He gave the braid a light tug. “When your skills reach such a level of expertise, you will know yourself as the Knight you will be. You will not need the Council to name you so.” Obi-Wan’s eyes were awash with tears. Not of sadness any longer but of gratitude and love. Qui-Gon tugged the braid a little harder. Obi-Wan obeyed and curled himself impossibly close to Qui-Gon’s side, wrapping his arm around as much of Qui-Gon’s chest as he could and held him. “But here and now, you are my Padawan, and I am your Master.” Qui-Gon wrapped his arms around him. “You are also my Omega, and I am your Alpha. Will you share the joy of that with me for the time we still have in private?”

Obi-Wan nodded into his chest. “Yes.”

Qui-Gon pressed a kiss to Obi-Wan’s hair. “You’re still young, years away from the age you would have taken your Trials. It will take some time before word gets out about us. Until then, we have the protection of anonymity.”

He pulled away from Qui-Gon so he could look down upon his face. “That doesn’t make it better.”

“No,” Qui-Gon admitted. “But it should make things a little easier for a few years yet, don’t you agree?” Obi-Wan nodded. Qui-Gon ran the fingers of one hand through Obi-Wan’s hair and smiled up at him. “I love you. Always remember that.”

Obi-Wan settled his body halfway on top of Qui-Gon. “And I love you,” he said. Then, something wicked sparked in his eyes and he leaned to the side to whisper in Qui-Gon’s ear, “I love you, Qui-Gon, my Alpha-Master.”

With a growl, Qui-Gon took him in his arms and flipped their positions until his Omega lay pinned beneath him by nothing more than Qui-Gon’s weight. “I never expected that to do things to me.”

A mischievous grin lit up Obi-Wan’s face. “I can’t say I’m disappointed it does, because I most certainly am not.”

Qui-Gon’s laugh never made it to his lips. It stayed in his chest, almost a contented purr. “I should hope not.” He grinned down at Obi-Wan whose gaze radiated heat and anticipation. Qui-Gon decided not to make him wait. He swooped down and claimed his mate’s lips fiercely, drawing out a surprised moan, before he pulled away and furiously kissed his way down his Omega’s body. “Oil,” he said between nips. “Now.” Another nibble. “Going to take you.”

Obi-Wan moaned, “Ghods, please.”

“I have some built up tension, you know, thanks to you.”

If he hadn’t heard the teasing in Qui-Gon’s voice, Obi-Wan might have felt remorse. All he felt was arousal as he felt his mate’s hands shift his body how he wanted. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Not as sorry as you’ll be if you don’t give me that oil so I can open you properly.” Gasping, Obi-Wan had barely enough stability and sense left to reach for the oil and hand it to Qui-Gon.

Obi-Wan looked up and saw his knees hooked over Qui-Gon’s shoulders. Something wet touched him, stroked him at his tense entrance. Qui-Gon’s tongue. Obi-Wan threw his head back into the pillow with a long moan. “Oh, please. Ghods, my Alpha, please.”

Qui-Gon’s answer was low and steady with promise. “As you command and desire, my Omega.” And then Qui-Gon’s fingers went to work, stretching him and making him ready until Qui-Gon settled between Obi-Wan’s trembling spread legs and claimed his mate once more.

**Author's Note:**

> I may or may not have completely made things up about certain lightsaber forms. It's a combination of part admitted laziness and part I-just-needed-it-to-work-this-way-for-"reasons". Maybe one day I'll go back and fix it, but today is not that day. 
> 
> I've also read oodles of fics where Qui-Gon calls Obi-Wan "Imp" and I love it. Borrowing the use of that nickname for Obi temporarily. Hope no one really minds. 
> 
> Otherwise: Liked it? Let me know by hitting the kudos button or telling me your favorite parts below in a comment! Thanks!


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